Dear Roddy,

You've probably noticed that my awesome self isn't here right now. I bet you're thinking, 'thank God, he's gone! Now I can have some peace!' Yeah, Roddy, I know you too well.

Seriously though, I haven't just gone off drinking or something equally stupid (unlike me, I know).The thing is…

You know Rome? As in the empire? Not personally, but you know of him, right? HRE, too. Well, you know how they stopped being nations and one day they just kinda… weren't there anymore? Yeah. It's like that. I'm not a nation, and one day, I won't be here anymore.

-=]% %[=-

It's dark outside.

The clock beside your bed- our bed- tells me it's five in the morning. It'll be dawn soon. I don't want to leave. Don't want to say goodbye.

This is the last time I'll ever see you.

I look outside the window, to the grounds, to the mountains. The leaves rustle in the trees, moved by a cold, unforgiving wind. A fox scampers across the lawn. I never knew how beautiful the world was.

I drop the heavy curtain and slowly walk over to the bed.

In your sleep, you are even more beautiful than your country.

I perch carefully on the edge of the mattress, wary of waking you. You don't stir, even as I take my hand and run pale fingers through your hair. It's soft, and flows easily through my grip. You mumble in your sleep, press closer to my hand. My heart twists in my chest. My vision clouds, and I raise a finger to my eye. It comes away wet.

I give a small, wry chuckle. How fitting, to spend my last few minutes crying, not over my impending appointment with the ferryman, but over you. My Roddy. How could it ever have been anything else?

They say that, when you're about to die, your life flashes before your eyes. If that's true, then…

Then my life was, is, and always has been you.

All I can see is you. You laughing, you smiling; talking with Hungary, scolding Veneziano, playing that sodding piano. The times when you weren't with me, when you didn't know that I was watching. But I was.

Always.

Then the times we fought. Silesia. Bravaria. Bohemia.

Too many.

The times we fought together. Schleswig. The Napoleonic wars; the world wars.

Too few.

Then the times we were…

Together.

Just us. You and me. Roddy and Gilbert. As it should be.

So many memories. But there could never be enough.

I lean down to kiss your forehead, brushing hair from your eyes. My lips lightly touch your skin, and you move slightly.

"…G...Gil…"

I freeze.

You sigh and burrow your head into the pillow. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howls.

I let out a breath, place my nose against your hair and breathe in the scent of your shampoo. I'll miss that.

I pull away and move to the desk in the corner. On it, unfinished, sits my letter. My final letter. I pick up your pen, a blue fountain my brother gave you, and begin to write. The last paragraph is the hardest. It's why I could never say goodbye in person. I'd be scared I'd never leave.

I sign my name, and my love.

The last words I'll ever write.

The only ones that ever truly mattered.

I place the paper in an envelope and gently seal it. I rise from the chair, and lay the letter on the pillow next to yours. I daren't call it mine.

I will use it no longer.

I'm about to turn to the door, when a thought pulls me back. I reach up and remove the cross from around my neck. I carefully open your palm, and close your fingers around the cool metal.

It's not like I'll need it any more.

As I step back, I'm overcome with the urge to stay, to wake you, to kiss you, to hold you close and never let you go.

To tell you I love you.

To never, ever, ever say goodbye to you.

My eyes burn, and I lunge for the door.

I don't allow myself a last look. It would be too much.

I pause with my hand on the door knob.

This is it.

Goodbye.

"Ich liebe dich, mein Roderich."

Then I open the door and go to meet the coming dawn.

-=]% %[=-

Dear Roddy,

You've probably noticed that my awesome self isn't here right now. I bet you're thinking, 'thank God, he's gone! Now I can have some peace!' Yeah, Roddy, I know you too well.

Seriously though, I haven't just gone off drinking or something equally stupid (unlike me, I know).The thing is…

You know Rome? As in the empire? Not personally, but you know of him, right? HRE, too. Well, you know how they stopped being nations and one day they just kinda… weren't there anymore? Yeah. It's like that. I'm not a nation, and one day, I won't be here anymore.

I'm sorry I'm not telling you all this in person, but… It's kinda complicated. And hard to explain. But I guess I can give it a go.

You remember yesterday, when we went out for a walk round the grounds, and saw that one little edelweiss flower by the pond? You called it a little miracle. You looked so, so happy, and made me take a photo to stick on the wall. That's when I knew I couldn't do this myself. I want my last memories of you to be happy ones, not… well. You know.

Just promise me something, Roddy. Promise me you'll look out for my brother, and for Francis and Antonio. I know they all look tough, but this'll probably hit them hard. Especially Ludwig. Make sure you stay matey with Vash and Liz, too. Friends are important. Oh, and you could always beat up Ivan for me. That'd be pretty awesome.

And one more thing. If you ever felt anything for me at all, you'll find someone else. Doesn't matter who. I just don't want you to be on your own. I know you're gonna be pretty upset about this (at least, you better be), and that's okay. But Roddy, I don't care if it takes you a thousand years, you have to find someone. Someone who doesn't care that you pay more attention to your piano than you do to them, who'll let you patch up all their clothes and buy cheap beer, who'll comfort you when you have a nightmare. Someone who'll do everything that I do, did, and more. Someone who loves you.

I love you, Roderich Edelstein. Always have. Always will. Remember that, and remember me.

Forever yours,

Gilbert